Cold White Stone
by Galadhwen23
Summary: Because it isn't very polite to keep someone you love waiting, and if there was ever something Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn't, it was impolite. Entirely angst, character deaths. Not slash. Rated T because... I don't know, I guess I'm just entirely too paranoid.


**Here is my author's note, I don't know what to say, blah blah blah, the usual. This took me a surprisingly short amount of time to write - for me, anyways.**

**Unfortunately, I don't own Star Wars *sniffle*. All I can lay claim to is a T-Shirt, DVD box sets, and a couple pens.**

**WARNING: More than slightly (I think) OOC Obi-Wan.**

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"How is he?"

"I'm… I'm so sorry, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan stared at the Healer for heartbeat, frozen, as the meaning behind her words sunk in. His eyes widened, and the once previously vivid blue in them was fading to gray. The innocent objects around the room were beginning to tremble, and Obi-Wan drew the Force in around himself, as if hoping to crush the incredibly strong waves of pain that had decided to take up residence in his body. He knew he was frightening the healer, seeing as she was backing away slowly with fear in her gaze as she stared at him, so the Jedi forced himself to stand up straight and spit out five little one syllable words, solidifying the impossibility that had occurred.

"I want to see him."

The healer turned and fled quickly down the hall, and Obi-Wan stayed half a pace behind her, forcing his numb legs to move. He knew his presence in the Force was probably a sizzling, swirling explosion waiting to happen, so he tried to release his emotions into its soft currents. For the first time in his life, it didn't work in the slightest. As the long corridor stretching before him started to yawn and tilt around him, the sick irony of the situation hit him. '_Attachments are forbidden, I told him,' _Obi-Wan whispered in his head '_yet here I am, barely able to walk straight, even with the Force helping me._' Though his insides were being repeatedly trampled by a herd of rampaging banthas, he kept his face completely devoid of all emotion. It did not show his grief, anger, pain, or shock. It showed all of the, in his mind, now insignificant life forms who happened to pass by exactly what they expected to see.

Absolutely _nothing_.

And yet, if the insignificant passing life forms had happened to be Jedi, perhaps they wouldn't have been afraid to look into Obi-Wan's eyes, and then they would have seen exactly what they secretly thought they _should_ have seen.

Absolutely _everything._

They would have seen grief and pain and sorrow and shock and anger and joy and happiness and mischief and maybe, maybe even love. They would've nearly been able to watch Obi-Wan's memories unfold, all of the ones that had _him_ in them, the good ones and bad ones alike. But they didn't look into Obi-Wan's once piercing blue eyes. They kept their gazes to the off-white robes that revealed, without a doubt, what he was, to the lethal saber that could barely be seen peeking out from under the brown cloak billowing out behind him as he walked, and to his face, which looked as devoid of feeling as any other Jedi. Never into his eyes – he was too menacing and mysterious and powerful a man to make eye contact with someone like _them_.

As Obi-Wan heard these thoughts projected into the air so many times over while he walked along this much-too-long-to-endure hallway, he had to bite back a something that was half sob and half laugh. If only they knew. The mighty Jedi; the defenders of the light, the protectors, the invincible, stoic warriors, just as weak and vulnerable on the inside as everyone else was. It was rather funny, Obi-Wan mused, that the normal, ignorant civilians could actually be considered much braver than the Jedi. Showing emotion – something that these innocent humanoids did every day, without a second thought, was something he decided the Jedi were more afraid of than anything else. To let the people around you get a glimpse into your heart, and carry on knowing that your deepest secrets, your feelings, were held in the minds of others, was something Obi-Wan decided was much harder than releasing them. Almost as soon as he had the last thought, though, he had to stifle another harsh bark of sarcastic laughter, which came out as a strangled huff and caused the healer to give him and odd glance. Releasing emotion into the Force; 'there is no passion, there is serenity'; what a kriffing bunch of lies. The Jedi didn't release their emotions, they shoved them down and locked them away, until a feeling was too strong, or the vault inside them got too full, and said Jedi finally gave in. The emotions went on a brutal rampage, starting with the heart, destroying and warping and _burning_ a person until they were nothing but a face slapped onto a mass of crumbling charcoal that somehow moved and thought. Obi-Wan let out a soft chuckle, devoid of any sort of humor, at the resulting conclusion. Discarding emotions didn't prevent one from turning the Dark Side, it did quite the opposite. Here the Jedi were, trying to prevent themselves from turning Sith, when really their now obviously _foolish_ ideals were pulling them away from what they sought to achieve.

The Force stopped moving his legs for him when the healer halted in front of a dull gray door, and he was jolted out of the insane thoughts he was having, thoughts that would've undoubtedly earned his shins… actually, his entire body a beating from the surprisingly painful walking stick Yoda carried with. After a few whacks across the knees when caught doing something he wasn't supposed to, it was obvious that the old Master didn't just carry it to help with walking. '_All the little green troll ever did was point out his faults._' Obi-Wan thought angrily, but after a moment he shoved his anger down, down into the now empty vault in his heart. '_It was you, not Master Yoda, who drove him to this,' _a cruel little voice in his head sneered at him. '_It was you who made him always try harder, pull off stunts that became more and more dangerous as time went on_, _trying to make you proud. That's all he ever wanted from you, wasn't it? But no, it would've been too hard for you to give him a simple 'well done' once in a while, wouldn't it have? It's against the Jedi Code, you told yourself. Attachments are forbidden, you told yourself. It's your fault once again, Obi. Trying to flip his speeder around like that, secretly trying to impress you. What did you tell him? You scolded him, embarrassed him, and made him feel like he wasn't good enough. Where did that get him? In landed him in the center of a mangled heap of metal and sparking wires. You were the one who drove him to his death.'_

"Master Kenobi… we've – we've arrived… would you like me to-"

"Thank you for your help, kind lady. I will go inside alone."

The healer stepped back, head bowed, clearly expecting and accepting his decision. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and stepped forward as the doors whooshed open, and he didn't open them until the doors were shut once more and a shivering silence hung in the air, broken only by the harsh beeping of machines and a raspy breathing that Obi-Wan realized was his own. As the eyes slid open, taking in the still, lifeless figure on the bed, his face broke from its carefully controlled expression. It crumbled and scrunched and twisted until it was the absolute picture of the strongest grief imaginable, matching the intense pain that swirled in his eyes. Staggering forward, he let the tears he had managed to contain flow down his cheeks, and the sobs that accompanied them were sharp and spluttering and would've been a knife to the heart of anyone who might've heard them.

"Oh, _Ani…"_

Anakin Skywalker lay half underneath the soft white sheets of the bed he was in, his face calmer and more at peace then Ob-Wan had ever seen it in life. Reaching the side of the bed, he used the Force to gently remove all the wires and tubes from the body and let them clatter to the floor; they were useless now that Anakin was dead. _Dead_. _Anakin. Dead. _The words formed and endless circle in his head, and each time he heard them it felt as though yet another lightsaber was slowly carving a hole through his chest. As soon as everything was gone, he shakily dragged his former Padawan up into a half sitting position and fell to the bed beside him, cradling Anakin's head under his chin and burying his face in the soft hair. Obi-Wan felt the long braid that adorned Anakin's head brush his arm, causing the water to flow faster from his eyes. His sobs continued and the deceased young Jedi's hair was soon wet with tears as his former Master cried, repeating the same phrase over and over in an unbroken chant.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so, so, so SORRY!"

The last word came out as a cracked scream and Obi-Wan hugged the boy-not-quite-yet-turned-man harder against his chest, rocking the body back and forth.

"It's all my fault, Ani; it's all my fault, all my fault. If only I'd been there when you needed me, supporting you, trusting in you, it would never have come to this. Screw the Jedi Code – you were more important, Anakin, no, you were the most important. Come back to me, brother, let me start over! Screw the Jedi Code, SCREW IT!" He sobbed, shaking so hard that the room blurred around him. He felt a white hot rage bubble up inside him; rage at himself for failing his Padawan, rage at Anakin for leaving him, rage at the Jedi, rage at the galaxy, rage at _everything._ The anger rolled around inside him, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but when he looked down at the serene face of the young man in front of him all of his rage fizzled out a evaporated, and when the grief came back it was somehow even stronger than before.

Five minutes ago he would have deemed that impossible. Last week, he would have deemed this entire day impossible. Obi-Wan had never known such powerful emotions before; they overpowered him, ripping away his control, which almost everyone he knew would have before considered impossible, and he let it. Today was a day of impossibilities, a day of death and pain and loss. The anger started to come back, but it dissipated once again, and once again the grief increased. This time it sharpened a little and then steadied; remaining at just the right pressure to, eventually, thoroughly crack his heart, but weak enough that it would be too long for him to bear the pain without insanity before he crumbled. Slow enough that he would feel every second of the pain as an evil poison seeped through his heart, turning it to ash, chipping away at it until there was a smooth, cold white stone in its place. Then, Obi-Wan knew, the pain would go away, and it would leave a beautiful numbness in its wake.

He would forget, then, forget how the pain and the rage felt. He would forget Anakin's smirking face and clear blue eyes, alight with frustration or amusement. He would forget the conclusions he had come to on his way to this dreaded room, the realizations that showed the insanity that had taken over him at the death of his son in all but blood. He would become the perfect Jedi – totally selfless, completely emotionless, because he had nothing left, nothing that could ever _make_ him selfish. He would be devoid of feeling because the smooth, cold white stone that had replaced his heart did not _really_ feel; it only fooled him into believing he was experiencing emotion. His mind would be fooled, but even so, the stone would not be able to produce anything strong or deep, only little feelings that were one grain of the sand that Anakin had hated so much compared to what he felt right now, as he continued his sobbing and his rocking of a dead body.

Obi-Wan did not want to forget. He did not want a smooth white stone instead of heart. It didn't make sense, and he knew it, but he couldn't bring himself to care. '_Wouldn't it be good for this pain to go away?_' the tiny part of him that was still logical asked him. '_Wasn't being the perfect Jedi something you've always strived to achieve?'_ it whispered. It was a compelling offer, but the tiny little logical part of him was also practically shocked into non-existence by his new perspective on the Jedi. He considered for a moment – before deciding on no. This would be his punishment. He did not deserve a relief from this pain, as it had been him who inflicted it in the first place. He deserved to feel every single ounce of remorse he had ever caused the boy in arms, and then a whole ocean more. He had only been 18 years old, too young to die; he had barely even started living. This train of thought brought on a fresh round of sobbing, and Obi-Wan finally gave in and let the Force flow around him once more, hoping that it would soothe at least a tiny bit of the pain. It didn't. Not that he'd expected to. His sobs slowed and stopped along with his rocking, and he so he sat there, limp, wallowing in misery. Until he felt the bond begin to come undone.

The Master/Padawan bond was starting to unravel. It didn't hurt as much as Obi-Wan had expected it to, only a slight stinging sensation as he felt the threads being slashed by an invisible lightsaber, but after a moment he realized that it probably would've hurt much more had he not been in so much pain already. This added pain was miniscule compared to what he was already feeling – but the unraveling threads of the last link he had to his dead Padawan were what made him come all the way undone.

Obi-Wan could've screamed, he could have cried some more, he could've stood up and started running as fast as he could away from this room, running and running until he physically couldn't run anymore. But he didn't. He sat on the crisp white bed, cradling Anakin's body, letting the agony wash over him, and in a twisted, sick sort of sense, he enjoyed it. He reveled in the pain, letting it rip him into little tiny pieces, knowing he deserved every single second of the torture that he was now welcoming onto himself. The saber that had been carving paths into his chest was gone; in its place was a blunt knife, ten times more painful. Thousands of times more painful. The Force writhed around him, responding to the torment that he was encouraging to destroy him. Just when he thought he could stand no more, when he thought his mind would give and he would swirl away into a blissful madness, a familiar presence faded into existence next to him, draping itself over him in what he realized was supposed to be a calming blanket.

He shoved away Anakin's presence in the Force angrily, for he did not deserve comfort, but Anakin was as persistent as he had been in life. His consciousness came forward again, trying to wrap Obi-Wan in its soothing folds, but this time Obi-Wan pushed it away from him so forcefully that it disappeared completely. For a moment he was darkly satisfied with himself, but after the moment was over the tears came once more, blinding him. He'd lost his beloved Padawan for the second time. After the tears slowed – again – something caught the corner of his eye.

Obi-Wan slowly shifted Anakin over to one arm and unclipped the lightsaber at his belt, lifting it up and staring at it. He slowly turned it over in his hand, admiring its sleekness and lethal beauty. It would be so simple – ridiculously simple – to give his finger a tiny flick and let everything disappear. To become one with the Force. So incredibly _easy_ to take away the pain and inflict upon himself exactly what he deserved; death. Obi-Wan lifted the cylinder and pressed it to his chest, lifting his finger – and freezing when he was a hairs breadth away from the little button that would end it all.

Did he _really_ deserve to die?

Taking his life would be selfish, incredibly selfish. Did he not deserve to endure this pain, to be forced to live out the rest of his life as if Anakin had never existed, knowing that things could have been so very different? Death would be much too easy. A quick slash, and everything would disappear, and he would melt away to merge with the Force where he would exist in peace and harmony. Obi-Wan doubted that pain existed in the Force – it went against every teaching he had ever received as a Jedi. Although many of his beliefs _had_ been turned upside down and ripped away in these past… three hours, he realized with a brief flash of… _something_. He hadn't realized it's been so long since he had received the heart-shattering news.

Turning his thoughts back to the matter at hand, Obi-Wan weighed his options. He could be selfish and join his Padawan – and Qui-Gon, he added after a moment. The idea of being with his beloved trainee _and_ his beloved Master certainly upped the potential of option one, as he'd unconsciously labeled it. As much as he longed to be with them again, however, he knew in his mind that the right thing to do would be to try and sway himself to go with Option two. It was what he knew he owed Anakin; what he owed both of them. Death was a synonym for peace, to him, and peace was exactly what he decided he would never again let himself have. Never again. Just as he was reaching down to slip the saber back to his belt, a whisper sounded in the back of his mind, quickly followed by another.

_Master… Master, listen to me…_

_Padawan…_

'_Anakin? Qui-Gon?' _Obi-Wan answered them tentatively, yet he was unable to work up any surprise at their presence. He doubted he would be able to work up anything now. Besides grief and anger, of course.

_We'll wait for you, Padawan…_

_We'll wait, Master, we'll wait for however long you need us to…_

And, contradicting the thought he'd had a moment before, in a burst of defiance and anger and _love_, Obi-Wan pressed the lightsaber to his chest once more.

"Master Kenobi, is there – Master Kenobi what are you doing?"

Obi-Wan smiled brokenly at the healer who had just reluctantly stepped through the door, watching with a tiny, miniscule hint of dark amusement as her confusion and suspicion grew.

"It's not very polite to keep people waiting, Healer, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, letting his question shiver in the silence for a few agonizing seconds before jamming his finger into the button.

The healer's scream rang in his ears for a moment before a wonderful tranquility came over him, and everything faded to black.


End file.
